This story is going to detail the background of Camille Leon, a character that I created for The Knight, The Sword, and The Sentinel. This story will be separated into five parts, with multiple chapters each. The first Part (The Beginning) will involve her early years, from the ages of 10 through 16. Part Two (The Golden Horn) will involve a seventeen year old Camille on the run through Valenwood. Part Three (The Courtesan's Secret) will tell of Camille, now 19, infiltrating and trying to survive a noble's castle as a courtesan. Part Four (Duty, Responsibility and Murder) will explain how, a year later, Camille first became a captain, and her first adventure with that new responsibility. Finally, Part Five (The Prodigal and the Prodigy), will tell of how Camille wound up having to save a prodigy at magic against her will.

So, without further ado, I present to you Part One: The Beginning.

CHAPTER ONE

The smell coming off of the men standing in front of Camille Leon was absolutely disgusting. They reeked of alcohol and sweat, which – while not uncommon in her home – was completely revolting to the young girl. Adding to their repulsiveness were the men’s appearances: unshaven faces; greasy and matted hair; yellow (and in some cases blackened) teeth; and ugly scars that seemed to cover every bit of their exposed skin. To Camille, they seemed to be demons, and all she wished was to get as far away from them as possible.

But her father kept her in place with a strong, controlling grip on her shoulder. Camille had no idea why he was forcing her to remain with him while he talked to the men, but, truthfully, she didn’t particularly care. She was more interested in avoiding the appraising gazes of the men than she was in listening to her father talk. Or, at least, she was until she heard him say, “So, how much do you want for her?”

Camille’s eyes widened and she looked up at her father, clearly horrified. “What? What are you talking about?” she asked, slowly beginning to realize exactly what the men were. She started trying to struggle against her father’s grip, but his hand just gripped down on her shoulder even harder. Camille cried out in pain despite herself.

“Shut up!” her father said forcefully. He glared at her for a couple seconds before returning his attention to the men, whom Camille figured were slavers. “So, how much?” he asked again, his voice taking a tone that sounded suspiciously like excitement.

Camille gasped as she realized that he was truly serious about his ‘transaction’. Her surprise was quickly replaced by anger and hatred as the slavers handed him a small bag of coins, which he stared at like he had never seen anything like it before. Which he probably hasn’t, thought Camille.

The lead slaver, a large, burly man who smelled particularly bad, said to Camille’s father in a deep, guttural voice, “Nice doin’ business wit ya.” Her father nodded absently, still preoccupied with the coins in his hands. The slaver pulled out a metal collar and a length of chain from the long black leather duster he was wearing and approached Camille with them in hand.

“No,” said Camille shakily, as she got loose from her father’s grip and began backing away from the slaver. “No, no, no! Please, no!” Tears began falling down her face as she felt her back hit a wall, and she realized that she had nowhere to escape the slavers. She tried to keep pleading with the slavers, but her voice failed her, and no words came out. So Camille let herself just cry. She kept crying as the collar was fixed around her neck, kept crying as the chain was jerked to make her follow, and kept crying when she was led out the door.

She only stopped crying long enough to yell back to her father, “I hate you!” But he didn’t even hear her.

Great story man! :thumbsup:

Looking forward to seeing how Camille turned into the person she is in the timeline.

There were a few sentences in there that didn't make much sense though. Might want to read back over the chapter and fix somethings.



But her father's hand kept her in place with a strong and controlling grip upon her shoulder. ?



Her surprise was quickly replaced by anger and hatred as the slavers handed her father a handful of gold coins. ?

Thanks! And thank you for pointing out those sentances, too. I don't know how they wound up being so weird. Especially considering that I wrote them correctly in the notebook I originally wrote the story in.

Whoa that was intense! Hope she gets some revenage if you know what I mean :tops: --------> :starwars:

CHAPTER 2

Camille’s tears dried up after several hours of walking. Her sobs had faded, and in their place was almost absolute silence. She made no sounds beyond the sounds of her breathing. The slavers preferred it that way. They hated it when the new slaves cried, but they knew that most eventually stopped on their own as they realized that they had no hope. They assumed Camille was just like all of the others they had taken in their long years of slave trading.

But they were wrong. Camille hadn’t gone silent due to hopelessness; in fact, her silence was because of the exact opposite. Her mind was racing to try to find a way to get off the collar. She had figured out that the collar was enchanted to cause fatigue in the wearer, but if she could get it off, she knew that she could get away from the slavers. But that was the problem she was facing: how to acquire a key to the collar.

She doubted that she’d be able to find a key just lying conveniently within arm’s reach, and figured that the slavers would keep it on their persons. So her issue was how to get within reach of the slavers’ clothing.

Camille wasn’t a naive girl, and so she immediately thought of at least one way to get access to the clothing. But she found that method particularly distasteful, considering how repulsive the men who held the keys were, and how young she was herself. But there was another way. If she could just get one of them to get close enough, she might be able to grab their weapon. Once she had a weapon, she might be able to incapacitate the slavers and take the key off their unconscious –or dead, she thought – bodies. Even if she failed to incapacitate them, they might have to kill her instead. Even in her youth, Camille knew that freedom in death was preferable to slavery in life.

So her mind quickly formulated a plan to get a slaver close enough for her to try and acquire his weapon. Maybe if I taunt them, she thought hopefully. That always seems to work in the stories I’ve heard. Camille decided that was what she was going to do: taunt the slavers, and hope that one of them rose to the bait. Taking a deep breath, Camille spoke up. “Hey, buddies!” she yelled over to the slavers, who were playing some card game and talking amongst themselves. “Why are you guys so ugly? Did your mommies drop you on your faces when you were babies?”

Two of the slavers seemed unaffected by her taunts, and simply returned their gazes to the cards they were holding in their hands. But one – the leader, Camille noted with both surprise and satisfaction – growled and glared at the young girl. Camille smirked and continued, with more confidence in her tone than there had been previously, “You smell like horse s___, too. Bet you got that from your mommy, as well.” The head slaver growled even more loudly, and snarled at Camille. “Did you even know your mother, big boy? I hope not, because she must obviously have been uglier than an ogre. Probably a w____, too. And there’s nothing sadder than an ugly w____.”

Camille almost laughed when the slaver slammed his large hands on the table, which sent his cards flying and knocked over the mugs that were sitting on it. “That’s it, you little b____!” he screamed angrily, drawing a large knife from his belt. “You need ta be taugh’ some manners, girlie!” Camille’s brief joy was quickly replaced by fear as he began to approach her, snarling maliciously and twirling the knife in his hand.

Camille took a deep, steadying breath as he approached, saying, “You’re jus’ lucky I can’t mess up the merchandise for the clien’, b____.” Camille’s breath caught as he leaned over her, grabbed her throat, and ran the knife blade softly down the side of her face. But then he released her throat and knelt down next to her legs. “But I’m sure he won’t miss a toe or two.” With that, he started trying to force Camille’s boot off of her foot. Camille saw her opportunity then, and steeled herself for what she was about to do.

As soon as the slaver leaned his head over her foot, she kicked upwards with all of the force she could manage. His head jerked back, and he cried out, though it was more from shock then from pain. Camille knew that her kick had done little, if any, damage to the slaver, but it had shocked him into dropping his knife. She quickly dove for the weapon, and managed to grab hold of it before the slaver could. He lunged for her, but she turned around and stabbed upwards with the knife. The blade went straight under the slaver’s chin and up into his head, killing him instantly. Camille briefly closed her eyes when the blood cam spurting outwards onto her.

When she opened them, she saw the other two slavers staring at her in shock and anger. Camille made a quick decision and, seeing one of the slavers begin to rise from his seat, she pulled the knife out of the first man’s neck, and threw it as hard as she could at the second slaver. Through some stroke of luck, the knife flew straight into the slaver’s neck. He cried out and grabbed at the knife before collapsing in the dirt.

Camille, now breathing heavily due to the collar limiting the amount of energy she could expend, looked at the last slaver, who seemed frozen in place. His eyes darted from his dead comrades to the 10 year old girl who killed them, but his body didn’t move. This gave Camille plenty of time to find another dagger on the first slaver’s body, which she threw at the last man. However, tired as she was, the blade missed the intended area, and hit the slaver in the lower chest. While it knocked him off of the chair and incapacitated him, it wasn't a lethal wound. However, Camille didn’t know that, and so began searching the first slaver’s coat for a key. She found one in an inside pocket. She smiled and used the key to unlock her collar.

Already feeling less tired, Camille stood up, looking around the small campsite that the slavers had set up. Her eyes lingered on the corpses she was responsible for making, and recognized that she had just become a killer. She was confused, however. She knew that she should be feeling guilty, or sad, or sickened that she just killed multiple people. But, she realized, she felt none of those things. She only felt . . . satisfaction. Perturbed, Camille muttered to herself a weak justification, “Well, they were bastards. They deserved it.” She took one last look at the corpses, failing to notice that one of them was still breathing, before she started to walk in the direction of her former home.

She needed to have a little chat with her father.

Sounds like little Camille is 10 going on 30

Yeah, Camille is forced to grow up quickly in this story. Though she will still have moments where her youth shows. Like in a later chapter, where she has her first crush.

Interesting read! I will be keeping an eye on this

Hmm sounds interesting. I was almost tempted to make a character to interact with her side of the plot in KSS. I mean I already have a character in just about every other plot line as it is

I was thinking something like a drifter kinda guy who just wanders around Tamriel getting into all sorts of trouble.